


Sky Full of Stars

by bar_wench



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Cocky Dean Winchester, Flirty Dean Winchester, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Sad Sam Winchester, Sassy Castiel (Supernatural), Self-Esteem Issues, Unrelated Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, cherry pie, diner, sam and dean are not brothers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:55:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23638684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bar_wench/pseuds/bar_wench
Summary: Sam Singer is a lonely kid at highschool. He's got his best friend, Cas, but he's resigned himself to being single and ignored by the guys in his small town. That is until Dean Winchester arrives from out of town. Sam knows that Dean could have anyone he wants, but that doesn't stop a part of him longing for the mysterious handsome stranger. Will a relationship ever blossom between them? Can it, when Sam's walls are so heavily guarded?
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Who doesn't love a bit of angst and fluff? There will be lots of angst. And lots of fluff. Maybe a lil bit of smut every once in a while ;) Enjoy! Kudos and comments much appreciated <3

Tick. Tick. Tick.

So close, the hands on the clock are so close to reading 3 o’clock. At 3 o’clock, I get to go home, have a few days away from this hellhole and all the stinking hormonal dickbags in it. Granted, I’m not the only one who wants school to be over, most people in here do too, but they’re all waiting to slap even more makeup on, douse themselves in even more perfume and cologne, and go to someone’s house to get absolutely smashed on cheap fruity alcohol, hump each other’s brains out, and take pictures for Instagram that they’ll caption #partyanimals, #yolo, and #sorrymom. Sickening. Meanwhile, I’ll be at home, probably watching another Gilmore Girls marathon with Cas. He tries to persuade me to go out and, in his words, ‘get a fucking life Sam Singer’, but I’d rather stay in with him. It’s safer, nobody is going to ridicule me just for existing, well, nobody other than Cas, and with him, I know it comes from a place of love. I think.

Tick. Tick. Almost there. Just a couple more seconds and-

The bell echoes through the building and everyone scrambles out of their seats, all hurrying to the door and pushing past each other in their frenzy. They all ignore the teacher, Miss MacLeod, as she tries to remind them of a test we’ll be sitting on Monday morning. She sighs to herself and mutters something about teaching being like herding cats. I stand, collecting my books after finishing noting down everything she said would be on the quiz, and she smiles at me.

“You’re such a good lad, Sam,” she purrs in her soft Scottish accent. “You remind me of a boy I taught back home for a few years, he was always so eager to learn. The rest were typical Glaswegians,” at this she scowls, “heathens, just like this lot. Ay, bloody heathens!” We laughed together and she waved as I left her room.

Cas was leaning casually against the wall waiting for me outside of the classroom, blowing on freshly painted black nails.

“How did you get here so fast? Didn’t you just come from gym?” I stared incredulously at him.

“I flew here, duh,” he winked. “And I ducked out of gym early with a ‘headache’ to sit in the locker room and paint my nails.” His priorities always confused me. I mean, I hate gym as much as the next self-conscious queer teen, but I’d use the time to study, while Cas will always be focused on his appearance. We balance each other out, like yin and yang. “But anyway, are we going to a party we weren’t invited to tonight, or are we hiding under blankets on your couch again?”

“I have Ben & Jerry’s and Reece’s Pieces,” I bribe him. Without missing a beat, he’s dragging me back to mine, claiming that he gets my extra fluffy blanket tonight.

***

“That’s homophobic,” Cas called over his shoulder as he continued to browse the gas station selection of candy.

“How is telling you that you can’t have 2 slushies homophobic?” God, he’s such a drama queen.

“Just is,” he pouted.

“Right, ok,” I chose to ignore whatever else he had to say, he was in a particularly irritating mood tonight.

A gaggle of teenage girls wobbled precariously past in their stupid stilettos, chatting aimlessly about how many cute boys there would be at the party. One of them mentioned Arthur Ketch, a stereotypical jock, who in my opinion was a certified psychopath but everyone loved him, and the rest of the girls feigned moans like bitches in heat. God, they really needed to get a grip. But there was still a tiny part of me that wished I could join them, that wanted to go to parties and laugh and dance and drink and salivate over the guys. I was still perfectly happy at home with my best friend, but part of me wanted to have the option. Instead, I was an outsider, always looking in.

Looking up from the tantalising array of off brand sodas, I noticed a beautiful old shining black car at the gas pumps. At the same time that I looked out of the window, the owner of the car looked in, and we made eye contact. Wow. Is it possible to be instantly attracted to someone? He radiated strength and masculinity, and his loose khaki military style jacket didn’t disguise his muscled figure. Just… wow. Oh god, look at me, I’m worse than those girls. I quickly looked away, blushing, embarrassed even though he couldn’t read my mind, it’s not like he knew what I was thinking.

Me and Cas paid for our somewhat obscene amount of snacks and turned to leave. Cas stalked out, still moody about his slushies, or lack there of, while I stopped to tie my lace. As I stood up and tried to walk out of the door, the handsome stranger was just entering the shop. He looked at me again, and this time I wasn’t able to look away. I was completely enamoured by his chiselled looks and, standing so close, his scent was unarming, it was alluring in a way I’d never known. He smirked at me, looking me up and down, then licked his lips.

“Sam!” Cas shouted from outside, tapping the glass and snapping me out of my stupor.

“You’d better get going Sammy,” the stranger winked at me, and with that, I scurried out the door.

Cas looked back inside the gas station, ogling the handsome stranger paying for his petrol. “Good lord, the things I’d do to him, hubba hubba! The things I’d let him do to me!”

“Stop it, you dirty little tramp,” I laughed, but secretly I was thinking the exact same things. Probably worse. Scratch that, definitely worse. But look at him, he’d never go for someone like me. Maybe if I took literally days to get ready, and had all of Cas’ confidence and then some, but even then, it’d be a longshot. And he’s probably from out of town anyway, I didn’t recognise him and our small town was the type where everybody knows everybody. That’s part of the reason that I can’t wait to graduate high school. Me and Cas are going to Stanford together, to escape this small town in the middle of buttfuck nowhere. Its going to be amazing. It has to be. I need it to be.


	2. Chapter 2

The heat from the kitchen was scorching me so I hurried out to the front of the diner, plates in hand. Without even looking up from where she sat at the counter, coffee cup in one hand and cheesy romance novel in the other, Jodi directed me to the table waiting patiently for their food. I apologised for the wait, but the older couple didn’t seem to mind, just smiling and thanking me. Hearing the bell above the door chime, I turned to greet the new customer but stopped dead in my tracks when I recognise him as the handsome stranger from the gas station the other night. Gathering my composure, I put on my best customer service smile and walk over to him, grabbing a menu on the way.

“Hi there, my name's-“

“Sammy,” he cut me off, leaving me dumbfounded. How on earth did he remember my name?

“Uh, yeah,” I stuttered. “Yeah, I’m Sammy, here’s the menu, todays special is the pig in a poke pancakes. Anything I can sort for you just yet, or would you like a minute to decide?”

“Actually, I’ll have whatever you recommend,” he smiled up at me, oozing boyish charm. Oh god, what do I recommend? What do we sell? My mind had gone blank, and I was just staring at him. I needed to stop staring at him. Sam stop staring at him! “I’ve got a real hankering for pie,” he prompted, clearly trying not to laugh.

“Cherry,” is all I could manage to get out.

“Well then Sammy, I would just love a bit of your cherry pie.” He flashed another heavenly smile and I felt my insides melt. I could feel his eyes on me as I walked away and, shy as I may have been, the tiny confident demon perched on my shoulder put a little bit of a sway in my hips.

Practically falling through the swinging door into the kitchen, Jodi was hot on my heels.

“Well he’s cute!” she nudged my side with her elbow as she passed me, stopping to lean against a counter to watch me knowingly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I muttered, my face flushing beetroot red. My hands were shaking as I tried to cut the pie, and I may have been slightly generous with his portion size. Before she could say anything else, I was back out of the door, heading over to… I realised I didn’t know his name. Here I was obsessing over the handsome stranger and I didn’t even know his name. Not that it mattered, he was just that, a stranger. Cute, but he’d never be interested in me, not when he could have anyone he so much as looked at. All he’d have to do would be to flash that dazzling smile and bat his lashes a bit, and he'd have everyone around him swooning over him, desperate to give him anything he wanted. Look at me, trying to bribe him with a big slice of pie, as if that would buy his affection. No, I needed to resign myself to always being the last one to choose from, everyone’s last choice.

Popping his food down in front of him, I watched as he swiped a finger through the rich cherry filling and sucked it clean, closing his eyes and moaning sensually; seeing this small act of seduction made my legs turn to jelly. “I tell you what Sammy, that’s got to be the best damn cherry pie I’ve ever tasted!” I couldn’t help but smile at his praise, even though it wasn’t really for me.

“Anything else I can get for you?” I asked as formally and politely as I could. His moan, oh god, just oh god. He looked up me again, a cheeky glint in his gorgeous green eyes.

“Well I sure wouldn’t mind your number,” he smirked at me as he said this and my heart jumped, then dropped. Funny joke. Not the first time I’d been teased by some asshole looking to wind me up, and probably not the last either. My smile faded and I looked down at my hands, twisting my fingers together nervously.

“Enjoy your meal,” I replied flatly, walking back to Jodi in the kitchen. She gave me an odd look as I entered, as if to ask what was wrong, but I just shrugged. Checking my watch, I realised my shift had meant to have ended 20 minutes ago, but I figured that seeing as I had nowhere better to be, I may as well stay a bit longer and help out in the kitchen, maybe roll out some cookie dough to help prep or something. I never had anywhere better to be. If Cas was unavailable, then I had no other friends to hang out with, no guys to flirt with, nothing. I had work, school, my dad, and my best friend. Sam Singer, the loner freak. Relentlessly teased and always the butt of the joke. It was shit.  
I felt a warm hand on my back, and I melted into Jodi’s hug. I’d known her for so long, she’d helped my dad (technically my uncle) raise me when my mum left. She didn’t need to know what was wrong, she just knew something was, and that was enough for my mama. She was always there to comfort me, always understood when I’d get upset about little things. She knew I was sensitive, and she never questioned me or seemed exasperated. She was just what I needed her to be, and I was so thankful for that. Still enveloped in Jodi’s arms, I heard a familiar voice.

“Excuse me, but why the hell are you still here?” Cas perched on a countertop and prodded me hard in the chest when I turned to face him. “Oh god, you’ve got a right mardy arse look on your face, you’re not going to be any fun at all tonight, are you?” He frowned, and even though his tone was teasing, I could see the worry in his eyes. Cas could be an ass, but he was my guardian angel of a best friend, and he knew me well, knew about everything. “I ditched that godforsaken boring study group you’ve been making me go to, figured I’d come see you.”

“He’s all yours, Cassy,” Jodi pushed me towards him, and he jumped down, pulling me towards the back door. Looping his arm through mine, he reached into his pocket.

“I nearly forgot, that cute guy was sat in a booth when I went through the diner, dunno how he recognised me but he told me to give you this.” Handing me a crumpled piece of paper, he carried on walking, pretending to look ahead and ignore what I was looking at, but in typically nosey Cas fashion, his eyes lingered on the scrap. Unfolding it, it read ‘don’t know what I did wrong but here’s my number, call me and I can apologise ;) -Dean x’. God, he even drew a little winky face. I couldn’t help but smile, even though I was still convinced it was all some big joke. The number was probably fake; in my head I listed a thousand different embarrassing outcomes of calling the number, it being a phone sex hotline, the number for a Viagra company, something awfully embarrassing like that. Even so, I took out my phone and entered the number into my contacts, but I didn’t call it; I had no intention of calling it, not anytime soon at least, I just liked the idea of potentially having a fit guys number in my phone.

Still, now I had a name for the handsome stranger. His name was Dean.


	3. Chapter 3

Sitting down at my desk in the front of Miss MacLeod’s room, I settled myself and organised my three black pens perfectly in a row. I had nothing to worry about, I was the hardest working student in the group, but still. Eager to please and all that. Stupid inferiority complexes, always screwing with my head, I never have any belief in myself or my abilities. As she put the paper face down in front of me, the fiery haired woman squeezed my arm and smiled reassuringly at me. Relaxing my shoulders, I released a breath that I didn’t realise I’d been holding.

“You have an hour to complete the exam. You may begin.” She sat down behind her desk once more, setting a small timer shaped like a black cat and opening a book of which I could just make out the title: ‘The Lancashire Witch Craze – Jennet Preston & the Lancashire Witches of 1612’. I adored my quirky history teacher; the shelves behind her were lined with books, some of which she had written, about the history of ‘witchcraft’, the oppression of women over the past centuries, and how feminine freedom had for a long time been considered evil and a sign of the devil. I always thought that if witches had existed, Miss MacLeod would definitely have been one. A white witch though, obviously. She was far too pure to ever hurt anyone, except for maybe Arthur; she looked at him with the same disgust I did, but with less timid uncertainty in her eyes. After all, he couldn’t lay a finger on her, and she knew it, but she, among all of the other teachers, could see how cruel he was to anyone he deemed to be lesser than him. The only faculty member who tolerated him was the coach, and that was only because Arthur won sports titles for the school year after year. All he was capable of was brute force, but it worked in his favour more often than not, particularly when it came to getting what he wanted. Arthur always got what he wanted.

When it came time to hand our papers in and leave for the day, I felt confident that I’d done reasonably well. As usual, Cas was waiting for me outside.

“What was it this time?” I inquired jokingly as we slowly made our way out of the dingy hallways of our St Louis high school.

“A potential ruptured appendix,” he scoffed. “I had old Mrs Novak, she never really listens, just waves you out when you ask to leave, so I like to see how far I can push the bullshit before she’ll realise.” He looked very proud of himself and I couldn’t help but to chuckle at his mischievous nature.

“Are you walking with me to work today or do you have somewhere terribly important to be?” I questioned, already knowing the answer.

“The soccer team have practise today down at the community club and with this weather, they’re bound to be shirtless.” He waggled his eyebrows at me and playfully stuck out his tongue, pretending to pant. “So, my dear Samantha, this is where I love you and leave you.” He blew air kisses to me as he walked away, shaking his rear end provocatively.

“How many times have I told you, stop calling me that!”

“Take your Midol please Samantha!” he cackled at his own dumb joke as he turned the corner, disappearing out of site.

Shaking my head, I carried on down the street and just about bumped into someone coming the other way. I looked up to apologise for my carelessness but stopped with my mouth open like a codfish when I saw who it was that I’d narrowly avoided a collision with.

“Well hey there Sammy,” Dean grinned at me, leaning one arm against the wall, effectively trapping me; if I really wanted to get past him, I’d have to step into oncoming traffic, the pavement was that tight.

“Uh, Dean, hello,” I tried to muster a smile, but it probably just looked like an awkward and pained grimace. I felt colour spreading across my cheeks.

“You’re cute when you blush Sammy,” he said, catching my gaze and holding me, powerless. Something about him was just so disarming. Then his smile faltered. “You never called.” He pouted petulantly. Clearly, Dean was, like Arthur, used to getting his own way. I wondered if anyone had ever not called before. Probably not. It had taken a lot of willpower for me not to, it was just my crippling self-doubt that had held me back.

I snorted. “Yeah, I bet that was a real blow to your ego.” Lightly pushing his arm out of my way, I carried on walking, but he was persistent and walked beside me.

“C’mon Sammy, give me chance. I know you want to,” he tittered somewhat childishly. But it was true. He could probably see it on my face. I couldn’t quite make out what I was getting from him. It was so confusing; I never had been very good at reading signals.

“I’m meant to start work in 10 minutes,” was all I had to say to him. Maybe he’d leave me alone and let me get on with my day, free of distractions. Beautiful, chiselled, sent-by-the-gods distractions. However, as soon as I said it, his eyes lit up with mischievous glee.

“Good, I’ll join you and you can get me another slice of that heavenly cherry pie.” When he said this, I internally groaned. Why couldn’t he just leave me be? I’d turned him down, why was he turning it into some sick game of cat and mouse? Was I going to be the prize that he discarded once the novelty had worn off, like a child dropping the flimsy stuffed animal they won at the fair in favour of a newer, shinier, more precious toy?

“I’ll actually probably be quite busy,” my poor excuses weren’t proving as effective as I’d have liked.

“I can wait.” This time, his smile seemed more genuine than playful.

***

Sure enough, when the diner began to empty at the end of the evening, there he was, patiently waiting in the booth by the corner, watching me wipe down the front counter with a wet cloth.

Once I was finished with my menial end of the night tasks, I approached him, pulling off the black apron tied around my waist. “Uh, we’re closed now, so…” I trailed off, scratching the back of my neck nervously. I didn’t really think he’d wait. I still couldn’t work out what he wanted. If he was just playing a game, he must be in it for the long haul.

“You know you sing to yourself while you work, right?” His question caught me off guard. And no, I didn’t realise, I was mortified. My expression clearly said what I was thinking, because he smiled as he stood up. “It’s endearing,” he said quietly, brushing his hand against my cheek. For a split second, I let myself lean into his touch before I stopped myself and reeled back as if I’d been burnt by his featherlight fingertips. As I was almost running to leave, he called after me that he hadn’t paid his bill yet.

“It’s on the house,” I cried, sprinting out of the back door. He could let himself out of the front and Jodi would lock up before she left. I had to get out of there. Away from him, from his touch, from his alluring, intoxicating scent. Away from my weakness and fragility. I wasn’t about to give into him that easily. I knew better than that, at least I hoped I did.


End file.
